Est. 1863 (from "A Slip Of The Tongue")

I am feeling good tonight
took some pills
and I am drinking sparkling wine of all things
listening to Toto
as midnight passes.
a poem can happen with little warning
and it is the best that I can do
to lug this typewriter around
this ancient machine
and capture the lines as they come.

I am not trying to capture anything immortal here,
just trying to keep the paint from dripping off the canvass too much.
I think that some artists force this type of thing
but I have found that it comes easy for me.
some people were born to be heroes, great men and women,
athletes
and role models,
but myself, I am hardly anything worthy of redemption
and still I try to be a good man, try to do the right things,
try to live a life less decadent.

my mother told my wife
before my son was born and before we were married
that I am not a good person, that my wife shouldn’t
live her life with me, to have the child without me, to leave me.

I was there when she told my wife this.

well, I may not be a good man
but I am struggling through it all like everyone else.
and I don't bother people with my problems, I don't do that.
I have found my comfort in this emptiness
as my phone doesn't ring
as my wife is out tonight
as I sit under this hot ceiling lamp
and pick at this wine bottle label.

this is
my
life
and I aim to enjoy what little I have of it.

View Poem (posted 8:57 AM) 

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